


Misconceptions

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: The five times Belle can't get Mr. Gold to touch her like she wants him to and the one time she does.





	

"It was only a splinter," Belle quickly tries to reassure her employer.

She can't deny that she likes the way Mr. Gold literally drops what he was doing in order to fuss over her after her cleaning work in his shop lead to a very minor injury, even forgetting about his cane. But the worry written all over his face is not what she wants to see there when he touches her like this for the very first time, taking her hand in his own to examine it.

"Let me take a look at that?"

The landlord looks so earnest, so concerned, that she can't refuse him – especially because he usually doesn't _ever_ reach out to her on his own accord.

"It's nothing, really. I already pulled it out."

He must have been persuaded by the lack of seriousness of her injury, for he looks back at her face rather than her hand. His eyes warm and so very, very gentle as he continues to hold her hand in both his own, Belle wishes once more that he'd be a little less professional with her.

After all, there's a _reason_ she continued to work for him – very happily so – after she has paid off her father's debts by cleaning his shop. It seemed a good sign when he asked her to expand her work to his home at that point and significantly raised her wage, but he gives no indication that his interest in her has grown like hers has for him.

Other than his not entirely discreet stares, stuttered compliments and his tendency to trail behind her like a lost puppy, that is.

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Gold, but there really is no reason for it."

She brushes her fingers of her good hand against his, hoping to draw his attention to their nearness rather than the tiny wound. But rather than getting closer to her, the landlord withdraws from her as if burned with a muttered apology.

*

"You're standing in the way, Mr. Gold," Belle says sweetly as she maneuvers into the corner he just moved into himself.

She can't pay him as much attention as she'd like to in fear of destroying the antiquities she's carefully cleaning one after the other, but she _is_ quite certain that he purposefully goes wherever she does on her usual course through his shop.

It gives her a lovely excuse to lean against him to reach for items, or to swat playfully at his arm, so she's delighted that he appears to be playing this game with her.

Rather than moving away, he remains right where he is this time once more. Before she got to know him the way she has, Belle thought in such situations that he's trying to intimidate her, to let her wordlessly know that he won't step aside for her.

Now… well, she doesn't quite know what this is, only that it is not _that_. Indeed, if she didn't know any better, she'd almost think that he's afraid of _her_ , shivering the way he does when she places her hand on his shoulder to reach for the clock on the shelf he's standing in front of.

Usually, this would be the point where he moves away from her with a muttered apology. This time, however, he remains right where he is. Immediately intrigued and more than a little hopeful, Belle forgets all about cleaning when she keeps her hand right where it is.

She can't see his face now that his back is towards her, but the way he ever so slightly appears to lean in to her tells her all she needs to know for now. Placing her other hand on his bicep, she savors the way he gasps slightly, his breath quickening.

Belle wishes that she could think of words to establish whether he _likes_ her to do this without scaring him off immediately. But all she can think of is letting her body speak for itself, caressing him very, _very_ tentatively through the layers of his suit.

Stepping slightly closer to him, she breathes in deeply when she does so, losing herself in his scent and warmth. That's probably why she doesn't prevent herself from hugging him from behind like she slightly desperately does, causing him to tense and shrug her hands off his shoulders.

"Excuse me," the landlord says curtly, practically running away from her.

She isn't pleased that he doesn't respond to her nearness after all, but she's hardly surprised either. Undeterred, she continues her work, finding encouragement in the fact that he let her touch him for so long to begin with.

**

She may have thought it a very clear sign that Mr. Gold likes her as much as she likes him when he offered her to live with him when she couldn't stand staying at the same house as her father any longer, but for some reason the landlord keeps his distance from her yet more since she happily moved in with him.

Which luckily doesn't mean that he has stopped staring, stuttering and going wherever she goes – the only difference is that he now does so from what he must perceive as a safe distance.

Mr. Gold doesn't pay her any longer, which gives her a good excuse to spend all of her time reading and talking to him rather than cleaning instead of _most_ of her time. It's also a considerable improvement that he's cooking for both of them now rather than her trying to prepare edible meals for him.

Belle is increasingly convinced that he's developing feelings for her of a romantic nature just like she has for him, but she doesn't want to seek confirmation too... well, in any way without a bridge back to the life they have now, companionably living in his large and comfortable house together.

She hasn't really considered _how_ she is going to do so just yet, but it turns out that she doesn't have to: one evening an opportunity presents itself which is simply too good to let go.

She's leaning over her favorite armchair on her stomach, her weight supported on its edge and her legs dangling in the air during a so far vain quest to find a power socket to charge her phone. They are rather hard to come by – although she _thought_ there was one behind this chair - in the admittedly rather old fashioned house.

"Miss French, what wine would you like with the..."

She yelps in surprise when the landlord emerges from the kitchen on the other side of the house without warning, instinctively trying to get in a more presentable position. Rather than accomplishing that, she loses her balance and, after a short struggle, has to congratulate herself on not falling off the chair altogether rather than getting back up on her feet.

He can probably see her panties.

Only able to see his face from her mostly upside down position, she expects the landlord to either laugh himself silly over her clumsiness or turn away in disgust upon seeing his housemate like this.

Instead, he just stands there... and _stares_.

She concludes that he _definitely_ can see her panties and that _he_ very much isn't looking at her face.

Realizing what a golden opportunity she has quite literally stumbled onto, she tries – and fails once more – to shift into a slightly more alluring position. He looks at her as if she's the most intriguing – dare she say tempting? - sight he has ever laid his eyes on.

If only she could see the same area of his body as the one he's currently looking at on hers... now _that_ might clear up for once and for all whether he's actually interested in her or not. She unfortunately can't, whereas her panties are going to betray _her_ very soon if he'll continue to look at her like this.

"Do you like what you see, Mr. Gold?"

She blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind, not knowing how else she might persuade him to get closer to her and do more than merely _look_. But rather than doing so, he moves back in the direction of the kitchen faster than any person has any right to, let alone one relying on a cane.

Once she has finally managed to stand up again, Belle has decided that it's high time for a less subtle approach.

***

Nerves and arousal alike coursing through her veins, Belle doesn't allow herself to second-guess her plan. After a lovely walk – arm in arm – this afternoon and an evening of wonderful food, laughter, classical music and card games, there's no better moment to finally try to seduce the man who may or may not long for her the way she aches for him.

Hearing Mr. Gold move into his en-suite bathroom from the hallway, she quietly opens the door to step into his bedroom. Her heart racing when she enters his most personal domain for the first time without the intention to clean it, she is determined to go through with her plan when she spots his bed.

Without exception, he had already made it up by the time she used to enter his room to clean it, almost as if he hasn't slept there at all. But now, the covers pulled back on the side where he must spend the night, it looks like he actually sleeps here.

Biting her lip in anticipation as she makes certain that the door to the bathroom is closed and that he can't see her just yet, she slips out of her robe and lies down on the bed. She knows that she's got the same sheets, mattress and pillows as he has, but his seem yet softer – yet more sensual – than her own.

Arranging her hair on the pillow as appealingly as she can, Belle is rather pleased with the current result of her scheme as she glances down her body. She's wearing the most daring set of underwear she owns, specifically brought for the occasion, and right now there's nothing she can do but wait for Mr. Gold - and hope that she isn't ruining their friendship by acting on a completely misinterpretation of their relationship after all.

When the door of the bathroom opens a moment later, she's hardly surprised to find him covered from head to toe in the most conservative pajamas she's ever seen. Still, the disappointment of him not emerging in something more revealing disappears when he takes in the sight of her.

His eyes widen when he looks – _stares –_ at her, his mouth actually falling open. She smiles excitedly when his gaze flies over her body, lingering for a few seconds on her barely covered breasts.

He must have left his cane in the bathroom and he lips towards her, his expression one of disbelief but one of unmistakable arousal as well. He sinks to his knees next to the bed, extending his hand to her mid-riff.

Almost bursting with happiness and desire alike now that he _finally_ reacts to her like this, she grins and nods at him in encouragement when his movement falters before he actually touches her.

Her eyes flutter closed when he brushes his fingertips over her bare stomach, as lightly as a feather, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She shivers pleasantly, leaning in to him.

"Sweetheart..." he whispers in utter awe.

He touches her slightly more firmly as he is further persuaded that she _wants_ this – that she wants _him –_ but he doesn't venture beyond her belly. No matter how wonderful his touch there is, she wants more of him – so much more.

"Take me," she breathes, barely recognizing the hoarse voice coming out of her own mouth.

"Take you where?!" he replies, immediately looking unpleasantly alert.

 _To heaven and back_ , she thinks, but he has withdrawn before she can tell him so as he looks at her with sudden panic and dawning realization.

"You... it appears you have a fever, Miss French. I... I'm so sorry for not realizing sooner that you want me to take you to the hospital."

"I'm perfectly..."

"This makes a lot more sense," he mutters, more to himself than to her.

"I'm not..."

"Your skin is very flushed, you're hoarse, you're breathing heavily and your pupils are dilated," he says, placing the back of his hand against her forehead in an entirely functional manner. "You're running a temperature as well."

"I'm hot, yes, but it's because of _you_ rather than..."

"I'm going to call Dr. Whale," he hastily says, all but fleeing the room before she can correct him.

****

In the week after the rather embarrassing house call from Dr. Whale, Belle has slowly but surely persuaded Mr. Gold that the heat rushing throughout her whenever she merely looks at him has nothing to do with medical emergencies.

Finally having found out that neither of their feelings are unrequited after all, he has ironically somehow become yet more skittish around her than before.

When he once more abruptly withdraws from her before she can actually kiss him after he hopefully leaned in to her ever so slightly, Belle has had quite enough. It's the middle of a Sunday, but she takes his hand and all but drags him to his bedroom.

He follows her rather eagerly, but makes no move to do anything but stare at her once more even when she has closed the door firmly behind them and has pulled back the covers of his bed. She tells herself that it's a good sign at least that he isn't making a phone call to the hospital.

Reminding herself that he's already seen her in her underwear, Belle takes off her socks, blouse and skirt. The way he looks at her while doing so is a delight in itself, also considering the fact that her appearance in this unplanned instant isn't nearly as impressive as it was last time.

Still, it gets better yet when he begins to undress himself as well on his own accord.

She is practically drooling when he sheds one layer after another, showing her more of himself than he has ever before. He's wearing yet more fabric than she already thought he did and it's a huge step to see him in only his boxer shorts and undershirt, the material doing little to conceal his lithe and wiry body - or his arousal, for that matter.

"Come to bed with me?" she suggests breathlessly, thrilled when he does exactly that.

Helping her beneath the ever so soft sheets before joining her, the landlord however keeps distance between their bodies and doesn't reach out for her once he's pulled the covers securely over them. He doesn't particularly look like he wants _her_ to initiate any sort of contact, either.

"Do you still want me to... take you, Belle? Right here, that is, not to the hospital, I mean?" he asks, sounding more trepid than anything else.

"Only if you also want to as well," she replies, trying to find the cause of his reluctance. "Don't you want to?"

"I do, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't want to ruin this... I have to make this _perfect_ for you. But I... I don't know _how_."

Her heart melts yet more when she realizes what's holding him back, especially when he looks at her with those warm, reverent eyes.

"You won't ruin anything between us," she says softly, carefully reaching for him to brush her fingertips along his bare bicep for the first time. "I know you... I wouldn't be with you here like this if I didn't know how gentle and considerate you are."

The way his eyes flutter closed and he sighs happily at the light contact when she caresses his upper arm, without asking for more once again, reminds her that he would never do anything she doesn't want him to do.

"Nothing between us has to be perfect. Just because it's _us_ makes it pretty good to me to begin with. Besides, if we don't get it entirely right the first time... that would gives us only more reason to try again, wouldn't it? Practice, and all that."

"Indeed," he mutters, opening his eyes to look at her with yet more love and awe than usual – and resting his hand on her arm as well to stroke it lightly.

"We're in this together," she continues, shivering pleasantly at his gentle touch. "We can learn together... find out what both of us like. _Together_. We don't have to make any big steps... in fact, I think that taking a lot of small steps might be yet more enjoyable."

"Can I kiss you, Belle?" he asks, smiling at her like she is his everything.

" _Yes_ ," she breathes, deciding that this is a _very_ good next step to make in this new phase of their relationship.

Their first kiss is little more than a featherlight brush of lips, but after one mutual moan the control maintained during months of mutual longing is finally gone. When their tongues touch and he happily lets her clamber on top of him, the initial disappointment at his apparent lack of interest in sleeping with her is gone very soon.

*****

Still trembling deliciously, Belle falls bonelessly back onto the pillow with a huge smile on her face, finally letting go of her fiancé's hair as he demurely tugs her panties back in place. Once he resurfaces from beneath the sheets, the lower half of his face glistening in the moonlight, she eagerly kisses him, moaning as she tastes herself on his lips.

She may not have actually slept yet with the man who asked her to marry him two weeks ago, they may not have ventured from beneath the covers of his bed or even taken all their clothes off in each other's company, but they _have_ learned to make each other feel very, very good.

Besides, he no longer insists on wearing a shirt when they're in bed together like this, allowing her to explore his chest and back with as much curiosity and eagerness as almost the entire rest of him. It's a delightful victory in its own right.

He is still as unassuming and careful with her as he always has been, although he's gradually learning that she's more than happy for him to take certain liberties with her. As her soon to be husband smiles at her in a way which has her breath quickening once more, she locks her ankles behind his back, encouraging him to grind in to her.

Both of them are still wearing underwear, but that doesn't prevent both of them crying out at the friction between their bodies. The damp fabric still between them is barely a barrier at all and she can feel exactly how much he wants to be touched by her.

Savoring the way he practically growls her name, Belle marvels at the confidence they have found together, both of them, as they gradually discovered each other's bodies and the pleasure they can bring each other.

"Now, what would you like me to do for you?" she purrs into his ear, slipping her hand inside his boxer shorts to do a suggestion of her own.

"That would be _wonderful_ , sweetheart," he manages to bring out as she strokes him lightly, almost teasingly. "But there's something else we might..."

"What do you have in mind?" she asks, her hand subconsciously stilling now that her fiancé, who usually leaves it to her to initiate new things, makes a suggestion of his own.

"Do you still want to be... taken by me?"

" _Yes_ ," she gasps, aching at the prospect of it.

"Sweetheart, I've been thinking... would you perhaps be amenable to take _me_ rather than the other way around?"

"I am!" she exclaims when his meaning dawns on her, thrilled that he seems to have thought about this quite a lot... and that he's as eager as she immediately becomes herself for him to be inside of her. "It would probably be easiest if we both took off our clothes and..."

She falters, belatedly realizing that she might be going too fast after all, if only because she might as well spontaneously combust if they're going to be entirely naked in bed together _and_ make love.

Rather than sharing her reluctance, her fiancé _pounces_ her, kissing her yet more passionately than he ever has in the course of their relationship while pulling blindly at the straps of her top.

Scrambling almost desperately to get their last clothes off, they are almost too eager to succeed. But at last they manage and although they can't see each other's bodies as they're still underneath the sheets, the feeling of bare skin on bare skin is electrifying in its own right.

Belle can barely bring herself to move when he presses hotly against the apex of her thighs, but when he questioningly rolls onto his back she goes with him. Both of them cry out when she straddles him and takes him in hand to guide him into her.

Neither of them can see what they are doing and it doesn't help that she keeps her upper body parallel to his, both to remain underneath the cocoon of the covers and because she wants to keep her face right next to his. It takes quite some fumbling, but between the two of them they manage to line themselves up correctly.

She whimpers when she slowly sinks down on him, further encouraged by his hands on her waist and the barely human noise he lets out when she takes him in inch by inch. The pleasure of being filled by him at last briefly mixes with a slight discomfort, his manhood rather larger than the fingers with which he pleasured her before.

When he's inside of her to the hilt, their hips fitting snugly together, he manages to keep entirely still to give her time to adjust to his size. When her eyes flutter open again, he is practically cross-eyed with arousal, looking at her face right above his intently.

"Are you all right?!" he asks, his voice rougher than she's ever heard it.

"Better than I've ever been," she replies, clenching her muscles around him experimentally.

"I love you so much," he brings out, his hips bucking up a little into her while he reaches for the most sensitive part of her.

Too overcome to reply in kind verbally, she nods vigorously to let him know that she feels exactly the same way. Quickly getting somewhat used to having him inside of her, she begins to move experimentally, and so does he.

Her pleasure begins to build once more as she finds a way to grind down on him which has almost electrical jolts going all throughout her, especially when he maneuvers his fingers right above where their bodies are joined for additional stimulation.

He has never been as vocal as he is now and she reacts in kind. She _screeches_ when he moves up into her slightly harder than before, hitting something wonderful deep inside of her.

She loses her rhythm as she looks down on him with wide-eyed wonder and he falters immediately, reaching for her face with gentle fingers and concerned eyes.

"That felt _really_ good," she tells him, only wanting him more after this reminder how important her well-being is to him, stopping immediately when he mistakenly thinks that he has hurt her. "Let's keep going?"

"Tell me to stop if it hurts," he pants, before doing exactly as she requests.

They move together gracelessly and out of sync as both of them rush towards completion. Neither of them will last long, but it doesn't matter, because they'll be able to do this again and again and _again,_ just as often as both of them want to.

Belle claws at his shoulders when she reaches her peak, crying out his name as pleasure washes over her. She feels better yet when he thrusts up into her one more time while she clenches around him, calling out for her as well when he spends himself deep inside of her.

She collapses on his chest, wonderfully enfolded by his arms and the blankets. Both their bodies shaking with aftershocks, she nuzzles his slick neck, breathing him in deeply as she mutters barely coherent words of love to him.

"I know our relationship hasn't always gone the way you hoped to, the way it probably _should_ have gone, but... I hope you're happy, sweetheart," he says by the time they've somewhat recovered, kissing her hand and the sparkling ring which it adorns.

"I am. Very, _very_ much so. It may have taken us a while, but wouldn't have it any other way. After all, it has been wonderful to get to this point, hasn't it?"

"Oh yes, it most certainly has been," he sighs happily, lovingly holding on to her. "And I think it'll only get better from here on."


End file.
